Wheelchair – Part Three

He was glaring now. His smile still present but his eyes told the truth of his rage. As he advanced, I gripped my chair, unsure of what else I could really do. It was time to play. I heard him behind me, his fingernails rapping against the handles of the wheelchair.

“Time to play.” I nodded, knowing there was no other choice. He began wheeling me forward, blood, presumably from his mouth dripping on my shoulders. Drip. Drip. Drip. A hypnotic, haunting melody. I didn’t have the time to be disgusted, because I had to have a plan.

The world began whizzing past, the sky falling into darkness as the air flew into my face, hot and suffocating. I could hear all these voices, so much pain, so much sadness.

Soon, it was just him and I, the world beside us, a blur, the sky, an endless stream of darkness, all the stars had gone out and the droning of the pained voices around us was the only sound I could hear.

“I’m rooting for you, even if they aren’t.” There were hands all over me, more and more appearing as the seconds spun by and the world became a little clearer. There was a black car up ahead, a hearse, unmistakeable, floral tributes to me lined the window. All the pain. The grief. The sorrow.

I closed my eyes, gripping my hands on the rear wheels, and pushed as hard as I could, trying with all my might to turn to the left. The hands grasped onto me desperately, my hands burning with the pressure, but I breathed, in, out, in, out, taking everything I had, and then, then there was nothing. No sounds. No lights. No stars. No people. No cars.

My breath began to calm and I looked around, anxious but trying to relax so I could figure out what to do.

He stepped out from behind me, smiling and jovial. He had balloons in his hand, and his eyes seemed to have a peace that I hadn’t seen before.

“You won!” He leant across me, tying the balloons to the handles of the chair. “You clever girl.” He stood back, staring, as if he was admiring me. “Now, close your eyes.”

I was reluctant but I closed them anyway, in the hopes that he’d stick to his own rules and let me go.

“Off you go clever girl.” He whispered. “Time to go home.”

Everything was normal. The bustling streets had returned. People went about their business as if nothing had happened. I was back at the top of the hill, wondering if it had all been a dream, except… the balloons. I turned to look at the back of my chair, and there they were, tied to the handles. He was gone, but I could feel him lingering as the balloons danced in the wind, and the air began to fill with the haunting aroma of popcorn.

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